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Best Famous School Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous School poems. This is a select list of the best famous School poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous School poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of school poems.

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See also: Best Member Poems

by Emily Dickinson | |

Because I could not stop for Death

Because I could not stop for Death-- 
He kindly stopped for me-- 
The Carriage held but just Ourselves-- 
And Immortality.
We slowly drove--He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility-- We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess--in the Ring-- We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain-- We passed the Setting Sun-- Or rather--He passed us-- The Dews drew quivering and chill-- For only Gossamer, my Gown-- My Tippet--only Tulle-- We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground-- The Roof was scarcely visible-- The Cornice--in the Ground-- Since then--'tis Centuries--and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity--


by Sir Walter Raleigh | |

A Farewell to False Love

Farewell false love, the oracle of lies, 
A mortal foe and enemy to rest, 
An envious boy, from whom all cares arise, 
A bastard vile, a beast with rage possessed, 
A way of error, a temple full of treason, 
In all effects contrary unto reason.
A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers, Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose, A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers As moisture lend to every grief that grows; A school of guile, a net of deep deceit, A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend, A siren song, a fever of the mind, A maze wherein affection finds no end, A raging cloud that runs before the wind, A substance like the shadow of the sun, A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear, A path that leads to peril and mishap, A true retreat of sorrow and despair, An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure's lap, A deep mistrust of that which certain seems, A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.
Sith* then thy trains my younger years betrayed, [since] And for my faith ingratitude I find; And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed*, [revealed] Whose course was ever contrary to kind*: [nature] False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.


by Emily Dickinson | |

God permit industrious angels

God permit industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway.
God calls home the angels promptly At the setting sun; I missed mine.
How dreary marbles, After playing the Crown!


More great poems below...

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | |

The Village Blacksmith

UNDER a spreading chestnut tree 
The village smithy stands; 
The smith, a mighty man is he, 
With large and sinewy hands; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 5 
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, 10 And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge 15 With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; 20 They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And watch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church, 25 And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice.
30 It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 35 A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,¡ªrejoicing,¡ªsorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; 40 Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life 45 Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!


by | |

The Alphabet

 

A, B, C, and D,
Pray, playmates, agree.
E, F, and G,
Well, so it shall be.
J, K, and L,
In peace we will dwell.
M, N, and O,
To play let us go.
P, Q, R, and S,
Love may we possess.
W, X, and Y,
Will not quarrel or die.
Z, and ampersand,
Go to school at command.


by | |

The Mulberry Bush


Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush.
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we wash our hands,
Wash our hands, wash our hands,
This is the way we wash our hands,
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we wash our clothes.
Wash our clothes, wash our clothes,
This is the way we wash our clothes,
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we go to school,
Go to school, go to school,
This is the way we go to school,
On a cold and frosty morning.

This is the way we come out of school,
Come out of school, come out of school,
This is the way we come out of school,
On a cold and frosty morning.


by | |

The Old Woman Of Surrey

 

There was an old woman in Surrey,
Who was morn, noon, and night in a hurry;
    Called her husband a fool,
    Drove the children to school,
The worrying old woman of Surrey.


by | |

Three Children On The Ice


Three children sliding on the ice
    Upon a summer's day,
As it fell out, they all fell in,
    The rest they ran away.

Oh, had these children been at school,
    Or sliding on dry ground,
Ten thousand pounds to one penny
    They had not then been drowned.

Ye parents who have children dear,
    And ye, too, who have none,
If you would keep them safe abroad
    Pray keep them safe at home.


by Razvan ?upa | |

the stars speak in your tongue

A Romanian body is the other 
to whom you transfer all that you are 

you always had a cousin at school who’d seen who’d done it all 
he was the Romanian body for each of us 
who’d trafficked in luxury cars for each of us 
as our debt as our possibility 
the same for any fear in the hair on the back of your neck 

maybe one or maybe many 
whom you dreamed and 
this dream is what you’ve been doing 
since you woke up till late at night 

then at a very clear moment 
my phonetic shadow falls everywhere 
with a breeze of touch 

maybe one or maybe many tongues stuck out 
into the air our duty is pleasure 
slowly on the roof of our mouths the stars 
will shine 

translated by Adam J.
Sorkin and the poet


by Thomas Stearns Eliot (T S) Eliot | |

Mr. Eliot’s Sunday Morning Service

 Look, look, master, here comes two religious caterpillars.
The Jew of Malta.
POLYPHILOPROGENITIVE The sapient sutlers of the Lord Drift across the window-panes.
In the beginning was the Word.
In the beginning was the Word.
Superfetation of , And at the mensual turn of time Produced enervate Origen.
A painter of the Umbrian school Designed upon a gesso ground The nimbus of the Baptized God.
The wilderness is cracked and browned But through the water pale and thin Still shine the unoffending feet And there above the painter set The Father and the Paraclete.
.
.
.
.
.
The sable presbyters approach The avenue of penitence; The young are red and pustular Clutching piaculative pence.
Under the penitential gates Sustained by staring Seraphim Where the souls of the devout Burn invisible and dim.
Along the garden-wall the bees With hairy bellies pass between The staminate and pistilate, Blest office of the epicene.
Sweeney shifts from ham to ham Stirring the water in his bath.
The masters of the subtle schools Are controversial, polymath.


by Margaret Atwood | |

Postcards

 I'm thinking about you.
What else can I say? The palm trees on the reverse are a delusion; so is the pink sand.
What we have are the usual fractured coke bottles and the smell of backed-up drains, too sweet, like a mango on the verge of rot, which we have also.
The air clear sweat, mosquitoes & their tracks; birds & elusive.
Time comes in waves here, a sickness, one day after the other rolling on; I move up, it's called awake, then down into the uneasy nights but never forward.
The roosters crow for hours before dawn, and a prodded child howls & howls on the pocked road to school.
In the hold with the baggage there are two prisoners, their heads shaved by bayonets, & ten crates of queasy chicks.
Each spring there's race of cripples, from the store to the church.
This is the sort of junk I carry with me; and a clipping about democracy from the local paper.
Outside the window they're building the damn hotel, nail by nail, someone's crumbling dream.
A universe that includes you can't be all bad, but does it? At this distance you're a mirage, a glossy image fixed in the posture of the last time I saw you.
Turn you over, there's the place for the address.
Wish you were here.
Love comes in waves like the ocean, a sickness which goes on & on, a hollow cave in the head, filling & pounding, a kicked ear.


by Stephen Vincent Benet | |

Going Back to School

 The boat ploughed on.
Now Alcatraz was past And all the grey waves flamed to red again At the dead sun's last glimmer.
Far and vast The Sausalito lights burned suddenly In little dots and clumps, as if a pen Had scrawled vague lines of gold across the hills; The sky was like a cup some rare wine fills, And stars came as he watched -- and he was free One splendid instant -- back in the great room, Curled in a chair with all of them beside And the whole world a rush of happy voices, With laughter beating in a clamorous tide.
.
.
.
Saw once again the heat of harvest fume Up to the empty sky in threads like glass, And ran, and was a part of what rejoices In thunderous nights of rain; lay in the grass Sun-baked and tired, looking through a maze Of tiny stems into a new green world; Once more knew eves of perfume, days ablaze With clear, dry heat on the brown, rolling fields; Shuddered with fearful ecstasy in bed Over a book of knights and bloody shields .
.
.
The ship slowed, jarred and stopped.
There, straight ahead, Were dock and fellows.
Stumbling, he was whirled Out and away to meet them -- and his back Slumped to the old half-cringe, his hands fell slack; A big boy's arm went round him -- and a twist Sent shattering pain along his tortured wrist, As a voice cried, a bloated voice and fat, "Why it's Miss Nancy! Come along, you rat!"


by Mihai Eminescu | |

LONGING

Come to the forest spring where wavelets 
Trembling o'er the pebbles glide 
And the drooping willow branches 
Its secluded threshold hide.
Eagerly your arms outstreching, Hurry dear to my embrace, That the breeze your hair will gather And uplift it from your face.
On my knees you will be seated Just we two alone, alone While upon your curls disordered Are the lime-tree's blossoms strown.
Forehead pale and tresses golden On my shoulder you incline, And your lip's delicious plunder Raise up willingly to mine.
We will dream a dream of fairies Rocked by secret lullaby, Which the lovely spring is chanting And the winds that wander by.
Midst that harmony thus sleeping Woodland tales our thoughts enthrall, And upon our bodies softly Do the lime-trees petal fall.
English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Octavian Rachieru School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

TIS EVE ON THE HILLSIDE


'Tis eve on the hillside, the bagpipes are distantly wailing, 
Flocks going homewards, and stars o'er the firmament sailing, 
Sound of the bubbling spring sorrow's legend narrating, 
And beneath a tall willow for me, dear one, you are waiting.
The wandering moon up the heavens her journey is wending, Big-eyed you watch through the boughs her gold lantern ascending, Now over the dome of the sky all the planets are gleaming, And heavy your breast with its longing, your brow with its dreaming.
Cornfields bright flooded with beams by the clouds steeply drifted, Old cottage gables of thatch to the moonlight uplifted, The tall wooden arm of the well in the wind softly grating, And the shepherd-boy's pipe from the sheep-pen sad "doina" relating.
The peasants, their scythes on their backs, from their labour are coming, The sound of the "toaca" its summons more loudly is drumming, While the clang of the village church bell fills the evening entire, And with longing for you like a faggot my soul is on fire.
O, soon will the village be silent and scarce a light burning, O, soon eager steps to the hillside again I'll be turning, And all the night long I will clasp you in love's hungry fashion, And in secret we'll tell to each other the tale of our passion.
Till at last we will fall fast asleep neath the shade of that willow, Your lips drawn aside in a smile and your breast for my pillow, O, to live one such beautiful night all these wonders fulfilling And barter the rest of existence, who would not be willing? English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Catalina Stoica School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

THE MURMUR OF THE FOREST

On the pond bright sparks are falling, 
Wavelets in the sunlight glisten ; 
Gazing on the woods with rapture , 
Do I let my spirit capture 
Drowsiness, and lie and listen.
.
.
Quails are calling.
All the silent water sleeping Of the streams and of the rivers ; Only where the sun is shining Thousand circles there designing As with fright its surface shivers, Swiftly leaping.
Pipe the birds midst woods concealing, Which of us their language guessing ? Birds of endless kinds and races Chirp amidst its leafy places And what wisdom they expressing And what feeling.
Asks the cuckoo: "Who has seen Our beloved summer idol , Beautiful beyond all praising Through her languid lashes gazing, Pur most lovely, tender, bridal, Forest queen ?" Bends the lime with gentle care Her sweet body to embower ; In the breeze his branches singing Lift her in their arms upswinging, While a hundred blossoms shower On her hair.
Asks the brooklet as it flows : " Where has gone my lovely lady ? She, who evening hour beguiling, In my silver surface smiling, Broke its mirror deep and shady With her toes ?" I replied:" O forest, she Comes no more, no more returning ! Only you, great oaks, still dreaming Violet eyes, like flowers gleaming, That the summer through were yearning Just for me.
" Happy then, alone we twain, Through the forest brush-wood striding ! Sweet enchanted tale of wonder That the darkness broke asunder.
.
.
Dear, wherever you'd be hiding, Come again ! English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Monica Dima School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

O MOTHER...

O mother, darling mother, lost in time's formless haze 
Amidst the leaves' sweet rustle you call my name always; 
Amidst their fluttering murmur above your sacred grave  
I hear you softly whisper whene'er the branches wave; 
While o'er your tomb the willows their autumn raiment heap.
.
.
For ever wave the branches, and you for ever sleep.
When l shall die, beloved, do not beside me mourn, But break a branch of blossom that does the lime adorn, And take it very softly, and plant it at my head; I'll feel its shadow growing as on the soil it's shed; And watered by the tears that you for sorrow weep.
.
.
For ever grow that shadow, and l for ever sleep.
And should it be together that we shall die one day, They shall not in some cemet'ry our separate bodies lay, But let them dig a grave near where the river flows And in a single coffin them both together close; That l to time eternal my love beside me keep.
.
.
For ever wail the water, and we for ever sleep.
------------- English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Alexandru Grosu School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

ONE WISH ALONE HAVE I

One wish alone have I: 
In some calm land 
Beside the sea to die; 
Upon its strand 
That I forever sleep, 
The forest near, 
A heaven clear 
Stretched o'er the peaceful deep.
No candles shine, Nor tomb I need, instead Let them for me a bed Of twigs entwine.
That no one weeps my end, Nor for me grieves, But let the autumn lend Tongues to the leaves, When brooklet ripples fall With murmuring sound, And moon is found Among the pine-trees tall, While softly rings The wind its trembling chime And over me the lime Its blossom flings.
As I will then no more A wanderer be, Let them with fondness store My memory.
And Lucifer the while, Above the pine, Good comrade mine, Will on me gently smile; In mournful mood, The sea sing sad refrain.
.
.
And I be earth again In solitude.
------------ English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Oana Dumitrache School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

RETURN

"Forest, trusted friend and true, 
Forest dear, how do you do? 
Since the day i saw you last 
Many, many years have passed 
And though you still steadfast stand 
I have traveled many a land.
" "Yea, and I, what have I done? Watched the years their seasons run; Heard the squalls that through me groan Ere my singing birds have flown; Heard the creaking of my bough Neath the mounted winter snows.
Yea indeed, what have I done? Done as I have always done; Felt my summer leaves re-growing, Heard the village girls who going By the path that meets the spring Melancholy do in a sing.
" "Forest, though the tempests blow, The years come and the years go, And the seasons wax and wane, You are ever young again.
" "What of seasons, when for ages All the sky my lake engages; What of years ill or good, When the sap mounts in the wood; What of years or ill, When the Danube rolls on still.
Only man is always changing, O'er the world forever ranging; We each do our place retain, As we were, so we remain; Oceans, rivers, mountains high And the stars that light the sky, Saturn with its whirling rings, And the forest with its springs.
" --------- English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Cristinel Sebe School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

0 REMAIN DEAR ONE...

"O remain, dear one, I love you, 
Stay with me in my fair land, 
For your dreamings and longings 
Only I can understand.
You, who like a prince reclining O'er the pool with heaven starred; You who gaze up from the water With such earnest deep regard.
Stay, for where the lapping wavelets Shake the tall and tasseled grass, I will make you hear in secret How the furtive chamois pass.
Oh, I see you wrapped in magic, Hear your murmur low and sweet, As you break the shallow water With your slender naked feet; See you thus amidst the ripples Which the moon's pale beams engage, And your years seem but an instant, And each instant seems an age.
" Thus spake the woods in soft entreaty; Arching boughs above me bent, But I whistled high, and laughing Out into the open went.
Now though e'en I roamed that country How could I its charm recall.
.
.
Where has boyhood gone, I wonder, With its pool and woods and all? ---------- English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Gabriela Brancovici School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

WITH LIFES TOMORROW TIME YOU GRASP

With life's tomorrow time you grasp, 
Its yesterdays you fling away, 
And still, in spite of all remains 
Its long eternity, today.
When one thing goes, another comes In this wide world by heaven borne; And when the sun is setting here 'Tis somewhere else just breaking dawn.
It seems somehow that other waves Are rolling down the same old stream, And somehow, tough the autumns change, 'Tis but the same leaves fall it seem.
Before our night does ever ride The queen of mornings rosy skies; While even death is but a guess, Of life a notion, a surmise.
Of every moment that goes by One fact each mortal creature knows; The universe is poised in time And whirling round for ever goes.
Still, though this year will fly away And soon but to the bygone add, Within your soul you ever hold Each thing of worth you ever had.
With life's tomorrow time you grasp, Its yesterday you fling away, And still, in spite of all remains Its long eternity, today.
A radiant and brilliant view, In many rapid glimpses caught, Of infinite, unending calm, Bathed in the rays of timeless thought.
------- English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Liviu Buftea School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

WHAT IS LOVE...

What is love ? A lifetime spent  
Of days that pain does fill, 
That thousand tears can't content, 
But asks for tears still.
With but a little glance coquet Your soul it knows to tie, That of its spell you can't forget Until the day you die.
Upon your threshold does it stand, In every nook conspire, That you may whisper hand in hand Your tale of heart's aspire.
Till fades the very earth and sky, Your heart completely broken, And all the world hangs on a sigh, A word but partly spoken.
It follows you for weeks and weeks And in your soul assembles The memory of blushing cheeks And eyelash fair that trembles.
It comes to you a sudden ray As though of starlight's spending, How many and many a time each day And every night unending.
For of your life has fate decreed That pain shall it enfold, As does the clinging water-weed About a swimmer hold.
-------- English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Alina Micu School No.
10, Focsani, Romania


by Mihai Eminescu | |

LONGING

Come to the forest spring where wavelets 
Trembling o'er the pebbles glide 
And the drooping willow branches 
Its secluded threshold hide.
Eagerly your arms outstreching, Hurry dear to my embrace, That the breeze your hair will gather And uplift it from your face.
On my knees you will be seated Just we two alone, alone While upon your curls disordered Are the lime-tree's blossoms strown.
Forehead pale and tresses golden On my shoulder you incline, And your lip's delicious plunder Raise up willingly to mine.
We will dream a dream of fairies Rocked by secret lullaby, Which the lovely spring is chanting And the winds that wander by.
Midst that harmony thus sleeping Woodland tales our thoughts enthrall, And upon our bodies softly Do the lime-trees petal fall.
English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu * Transcribed by Octavian Rachieru School No.
10, Focsani, Romania *


by Mihai Eminescu | |

THE TALE OF THE FOREST

Mighty emperor is the forest, 
High dominion does he wield, 
And a thousand races prosper 
'Neath the shelter of his shield.
The moon, the sun and Lucifer Do round his kingdom ever sphere; While lords and ladies of his court Are of the noble race of deer.
Hares, his heralds and his postmen, Carry rapidly his mails; Birds his orchestra composing, Springs that tell him thousand tales.
Midst the flowers that grow in shadow By the streams and in the grass, Bees in golden clouds are swarming, Ants in mighty armies pass .
.
.
Come, let us again be children In the woods we loved of yore So that life, and luck, and loving Seem a game and nothing more.
For I feel that mother nature All her wisdom did employ But to raise you over living And of life to make your toy.
You and I away shall wander Quite alone where no one goes, And we'll lie beside the water Where the flowering lime-tree grows.
As we slumber, on our bodies Will the lime its petals lay, While in sleep, sweet distant bagpipes We will hear some shepherd play.
Hear so much, and closer clinging, Heart to heart in lover's wise, Hear the emperor call his council And his ministers advise.
Through the silver spreading branches Will the moon the stream enlace, And around us slowly gather Courtiers of many a race.
Horses proud, as white as wave crests, Many-branching horned stags, Bulls with stars upon their fore heads, Chamois from the mountain crags.
And the lime-tree they will question Who we are; and stand and wonder, While our host will softly answer Parting wide his boughs asunder: "Look, o look how they are dreaming Dreams that in the forest grow; Like the children of some legend Do they love each other so".
English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu * Transcribed by Cristina Mihu School No.
10, Focsani, Romania *


by Mihai Eminescu | |

Solitude

With the curtains drawn together, 
At my table of rough wood,  
And the firelight flickering softly, 
Do I fall to thoughtful mood.
Flocks and flocks of sweet illusions, Memories the mind recalls, And they softly creep like crickets Through time's grey and crumbled walls; Or they drop with gentle patter On the pavement of the soul, As does wax before God's altar From the sacred candles roll.
About the room in every corner Silver webs the spiders sew, While among the dusty bookshelves Furtive mice soft come and go.
And I gaze towards the ceiling That so many times I saw, And listen how the bindings With their tiny teeth they gnaw.
O, how often have I wanted My worn lyre aside to lay; From poetry and solitude At last my thoughts to turn away.
But again the mice, the crickets, With their small and rustling tread Awake in me familiar logings And with poetry fill my head.
Once in a while, alast too rarely, When my lamp is burning late, Suddenly my heart beats wildly For I hear the latch-bar grate.
It is She.
My dusky chamber In a moment seems to glow; As if an icon's holy lustre Did o'er life's threshold flow.
And I know not how the moments Have the heart away to sneak, While we whisper low our loving, Hand in hand, and cheek to cheek.
English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu Transcribed by Delia Nita School No.
9, Focsani, Romania Teacher coordinator: Radita Neagu *


by Mihai Eminescu | |

WITH LIFES TOMORROW TIME YOU GRASP

With life's tomorrow time you grasp, 
Its yesterdays you fling away, 
And still, in spite of all remains 
Its long eternity, today.
When one thing goes, another comes In this wide world by heaven borne; And when the sun is setting here 'Tis somewhere else just breaking dawn.
It seems somehow that other waves Are rolling down the same old stream, And somehow, tough the autumns change, 'Tis but the same leaves fall it seem.
Before our night does ever ride The queen of mornings rosy skies; While even death is but a guess, Of life a notion, a surmise.
Of every moment that goes by One fact each mortal creature knows; The universe is poised in time And whirling round for ever goes.
Still, though this year will fly away And soon but to the bygone add, Within your soul you ever hold Each thing of worth you ever had.
With life's tomorrow time you grasp, Its yesterday you fling away, And still, in spite of all remains Its long eternity, today.
A radiant and brilliant view, In many rapid glimpses caught, Of infinite, unending calm, Bathed in the rays of timeless thought.
English version by Corneliu M.
Popescu * Transcribed by Liviu Buftea School No.
10, Focsani, Romania *